Jack and Tenley at the zoo

 My friend, Geri, has developed an annoying new habit of volunteering for things while I'm standing RIGHT NEXT to her which limits my options to either (a) volunteering as well but looking like I'm ONLY volunteering because Geri did or (b) NOT volunteering and looking like a complete jerk. Which is how I ended up spending a Monday driving up to the zoo with a couple of pre-schoolers. Fortunately, I happen to adore this little set of pre-schoolers.

"Jack," Geri asked, smiling into the rear-view mirror, "what's your favorite song?" Four-year-old Jack immediately launched into that 70s classic "Convoy" while Geri and I sat up front in stunned silence.

"Ain't she a bee-u-tee-ful sight?
Come on and join our convoy
Ain't nothin' gonna get in our way
We gonna roll this truckin' convoy
'cross the USA
Convoy!"

Fearing that Jack would get beat up when he started his half-day program in September because his negligent mother never bothered to teach him the pre-requisite children's songs that every pre-schooler MUST know, Geri and I spent hours singing "I'll be working on the railroad" to him and his two-year-old sister Tenley. That was in between bouts of Geri complaining about my insistence that we use my GPS. "Yeah, I know," I agreed, "nothing beats a good old-fashioned map." I glanced at her directions before sweetly inquiring, "I didn't know the Seneca Zoo was located in Brighton."

An hour-long drive with Jack and Tenley flies by. Tenley is content to just let me hand her one cracker at a time for the entire length of the ride. I was afraid that she was going to turn into a giant cracker. And that girl knows how to get comfortable...fast. She sheds clothes like a lizard sheds skin. As we neared the zoo, I began my usual shtick of dramatically sniffing and saying, "I think I smell an elephant." Worried that I might be delusional, Jack assured me that what I was smelling was only Tenley's feet.

Jack is quite the conversationalist. He identified every type of truck we passed and gently corrected
me if I got one wrong. "See the front-loader, Jack," I remarked. "That's an excavator," he said softly. "I hear your family is getting some beefers," Geri said to Jack before whispering over to me, "Does that mean they eventually have to be killed?" Jack, overhearing, was quick to reassure her. "Oh, we don't have a gun."

Speaking of death, Jack told us, "Last time we were here, a polar bear had died," prompting Geri and I to take a poignant pause before launching into a consoling "Circle of Life" conversation. Jack interrupted us before we had gotten too far. "Oh...he might have just been sleeping." Whew.

The zoo, of course, was magical. Tenley roars at everything. "Rhino-roar!" "Alligator-roar!" There was a minor zoo up-"roar" when the Snack Shack ran out of ketchup. "I just spent $65 on hot dogs and french fries," yelled one woman, shaking her fist in rage. She, understandably, could not be placated with an offer of store-bought generic barbecue sauce as a replacement. I was on her side. Fortunately, Jack had a "Batman"-shaped ice-cream novelty with gumball eyeballs so we were not caught up in the ketchup catastrophe.

Tenley and I had a long conversation about why elephants should wear diapers. Jack was happiest touring the safari bus that decorated the lion enclosure. Tenley refused to leave the Mama Lion and became the Seneca Park Zoo's youngest amateur docent as she showed everyone the Mama Lion's tail...the Mama Lion's whiskers...how the Mama Lion doesn't like bees...We clapped in excitement as the sea lions swept by the display window, "blowing kisses" to Jack and Tenley.

And then it was time to go. I thought I'd cleverly employ a little reverse psychology with the kids by playing the "Don't go to sleep" game. Shockingly, it didn't work. They'd "pretend" to sleep, adorably snoring, while I whispered, "Wake up, wake up wake up." Geri and I discovered, when it was my turn to pretend to sleep, that Kelly's kids are incapable of whispering. Anyone who knows their mother is now shaking their heads in complete understanding. We added a new dimension to the game by pretending to see something so magically fantastical that you just had to wake up. For example, "Tenley, wake up, there's a pink and purple polka-dotted unicorn!" Jack, of course, wanted to play. "Amy, wake up, there are trees by the road!" "No, Jack," we'd explain, "you have to make something up." He'd nod and try again. "Amy, wake up, there's a silo by the barn!" Jack is terrible at this game,

We got home and excitedly told Kelly all about our adventures. "Jack," Geri urged, "tell Mommy the song we taught you." Jack, already busy on his giant sand-pile, manning his front-loader/excavator mechanism, didn't even look up as he answered, "Life is a Highway." Oh boy...pre-school is going to be rough.